


baby, do it right now (push me down)

by fragilelittleteacup



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Canon Rewrite, Dream Sex, Episode: s04e07, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Not Beta Read, Porn with Feelings, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Rough Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Size Kink, Teacher Kink, Teacher/Student Roleplay, nathan has Many Things that he does Not Tell People
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2018-12-17 16:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11854950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilelittleteacup/pseuds/fragilelittleteacup
Summary: "I can't-""You can." Duke insisted, quietly. "You will."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreyHaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyHaven/gifts).



Nathan’s feet made quiet, bare skidding noises against the polished wooden floor of the Haven police station. He wasn’t sure where his shoes were, but that didn’t matter. There was a rising feeling of urgency in his chest, threading itself through every heartbeat with a delicious, burning heat. As if the organ behind his ribs was saturated with whiskey, pumping alcohol through his body. He felt _exposed._

The halls of the station seemed to go on forever, people always hovering around him, but never close enough that he could see their faces. He continued to walk, searching for something or somebody, unsure exactly _what_ he was looking for. But there was a drive within him, like a compass, carrying his feet towards some inevitable event.

He stopped short. Duke stood before him, seeming to have materialised out of nowhere. His hair was loosely tied back, the warm overhead lights casting a glow upon his brown skin, and Nathan wondered when Duke had gotten so beautiful. The heat within boiled, simmering to almost painful levels, and he was hypnotised by the cut of Duke’s brow, the angle of his jawline.

 “We’ve,” Nathan began, finding that his voice was blurred and inarticulate, “We’ve gotta go.”

Duke raised an eyebrow, black eyes shining mischievously. He was wearing a fitted dress shirt, white and smooth, tight around the broadness of his shoulders. He turned a page of the folder he held, and Nathan wondered when Duke had gotten access to the Station’s confidential files. Something about this felt… different.

“Nathan, what’re you doing?” Duke peered over the edge of his file, raising an eyebrow slyly at what he saw. “You should really put some clothes on.”

Nathan flinched. He went to cover himself, but found his hands wouldn’t move. A grin twitched at the edge of Duke’s mouth. When he raised his eyes, cocking his head to the side as if daring Nathan to do something _drastic,_ Nathan felt a blush blooming on his cheeks, creeping down his neck and inching across his bare collarbone.

“I’m- I’m late for class, I forgot I even signed up for it, I didn’t study, and now I have a test.” The words fell from Nathan’s mouth in a confused rush, and he thought, _yes, I’m in school, I’m late-_

Duke raised both eyebrows now, still smiling. Nathan turned away from him, trying to ignore the feeling of vulnerability that shivered through his chest as he turned his back on Duke. The air settled against his naked body like a physical embrace, and Duke’s gaze was like gossamer beside his skin.

It only occurred to him at this point that he could _feel._ Time and space were fluid and concrete all at once, the scene before him coalescing into a classroom. Somewhere in the depths of his mind Nathan remembered younger days, remembered Duke’s lanky teenage body bent over a table, forehead tight with a frown as he tried to figure out mathematical sums. But, as Nathan stepped forward into the room, he forgot those days. There was a surreality about it all, about the stillness of this place, but he moved within it, unaware that he was dreaming.

There was a blue booklet, obstinately labelled _Test Book,_ sitting beside two pencils. He sat down at the desk, blinked at the booklet incomprehensibly. There was no indication as to what subjects that the booklet contained, but he realised with a panicked jolt that he was surely in the wrong classroom.

“I’m not even in this class,” he muttered, reaching to pick up his pencil.

“I’m sick and tired of your excuses, Mr Wuornos.”

The voice was low and steady, a rumble that froze Nathan still in his seat. The fire inside him sparked and burst, making him gasp. He was suddenly hyperaware of the cold wooden chair beneath his ass.

He raised his eyes slowly, seeking out the source of the voice.

It was Duke.

Duke, who was leaning against the desk at the front of the room, hips slanted to the side, one shoulder dropped low in a lazy slouch. His smile looked wicked, a cold authority hardening his usually jovial face. His hair was tied back loosely, a loose strand cupping the shape of his face, making him appear older and more mature than he usually did. He was clean-shaven. Nathan, ordinarily, would’ve made some cutting comment about how _pirate-like_ Duke’s look was, but… he couldn’t. Something had shifted, and the balance of power now sat squarely in Duke’s broad, patient hands. Nathan felt tiny. He felt… _helpless._

And, god, what a delicious feeling that was.

Nathan’s eyes moved down, following the flat plane of Duke’s chest, noting the way fabric hugged his body. He swallowed hard when he reached the closed loop of Duke’s belt, the leather sheer and polished in the dim classroom light. Duke had his thumbs hooked over the waistband, a deliberate intent spelled out clearly by his posture. Nathan looked up again, his chest _burning._ He could feel his breaths hastening, face warmed by an emotion he couldn’t quite comprehend.

“Give me,” Duke continued quietly, “an answer.”

Nathan opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Duke inclined his head slightly backwards, looking _down_ at Nathan now, hair falling back across his forehead. His fingers moved, wandering towards his belt buckle, and Nathan almost moaned, just knowing what would come next.

“I- I don’t know even the question,” he said, and the words were almost _pleading._

Duke gestured behind him at the chalkboard. Nathan blinked uncomprehendingly at what was written there, scrawled out in Duke’s cursive handwriting.

_What do you want?_

“Uh,” Nathan laughed nervously, confused. What _did_ he want?

“Time’s up.” Duke announced. Everything seemed to have moved in a single instant, and suddenly- well, suddenly, Duke’s belt had slid free from the loops of his jeans, and was now folded between his hands. It looked enticing and _dangerous_ in the grip of his long, elegant fingers.

“No, uh, I- Just let me think, I-”

Duke’s hand came down in a flash, grabbing Nathan’s jaw. Nathan leaned forward where he sat, jaw held tight in an unrelenting grip, teetering on the edge of his seat. He tried to breathe normally, but couldn't. The touch of Duke’s skin was dry and warm, roughened by seafaring duties onboard his boat; exactly how Nathan had imagined Duke’s skin would feel after all these years.

He peered upwards, trembling at the sight of Duke’s condescending grin.

“You’re too late,” Duke told him, a gentle kind of viciousness in his words. His mouth was moving so slowly, yet his soft voice carried such _authority._ Nathan shuddered, tried to pull his head back out of Duke’s grip. But Duke tightened his hold, leaned down. Nathan closed his eyes.

“Boys like you need to get punished,” Duke whispered, lips touching the shell of Nathan’s ear, “or you’ll never learn.”

Nathan groaned, the sound punching out of him like a curse. He sounded _feeble._ Part of him wanted to fight, wanted to get up and run, but he knew what he really wanted. He wanted Duke to _force the issue._

Duke pulled away, let go of Nathan’s jaw sharply.

“Stand up.”

Nathan did, trembling. Duke stepped back, eyes roaming up and down like he was considering a buffet, like he was analysing a delicious meal. He looked _ravenous._

Without speaking, without even needing to bother with vocalised demands, Duke twirled his finger in a slow, deliberate circle. Nathan knew what he had to do. He knew what was expected of him.

Maybe he’d always known.

He turned around, placed two hands on the desk. Leaned down. The wood, cheap and thin, bowed slightly under the weight of his palms, and he wondered if it would even take his weight. He wondered if what Duke wanted to do to him _required_ him to be limp and senseless.

Still silent, Duke walked closer. The clicks of his shoes were sharp and businesslike against the floor, contrasting vividly with Nathan’s nakedness. When he raised a hand, trailing his fingers up the outside of Nathan’s thigh, the touch was unexpected– Nathan flinched, gasping, and he wondered if Duke was watching the shivering of his muscles, the motion that rippled through his body and had him quaking.

“Duke, I-”

“This,” Duke interrupted him softly, “will be a lesson you’ll never forget.”

The belt came down on Nathan's skin.

He jolted, crying out, but Duke shushed him. Those long hands, so strong and steady, took hold of his hips, pulled him gently backwards. The roughness of fabric brushed against his skin, Duke grinding into him as he bowed, head hanging, panting at the sting and the  _burn._ When he tried to lean away, Duke held him still.

"I can't-"

"You can." Duke insisted, quietly. "You will."

Nathan sobbed, shook his head. But he didn't say  _no,_ because that wasn't what he wanted. That wasn't ever what he'd wanted. The sleek, unforgiving edge of a belt whispered over his back, a promise of the violence to come, the pain that he'd been chasing since that night on Duke's boat, trapped between Duke's body and the deck as they fought. He'd been numb since that day, numb since realising what he  _wanted._

Maybe the epiphany had just been too much.

Maybe that's why his trouble had come back.

"Duke," Nathan whispered. And yeah, he _was_  beggingnow. "Duke, please-"

Duke bent down, pressed a kiss to the curve of Nathan's neck.

Like he'd known all along.

 

***

 

Nathan opened his eyes.

Audrey was at his door, telling him to get ready, telling him that they had a break in the case. He replied, words that didn't form properly in his mind, and he realised-

He realised he'd been  _dreaming._

He put both hands over his face, humiliated. He pressed his thighs together, moaned when some sensation bled through his numbness, the heat of the dream leaving him dizzy.

"Shit," he whispered.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Nathan wasn’t an idiot.

He’d told Audrey that he’d been affected by the dreaming trouble, and she’d said exactly what he’d expected; _don’t go to sleep._ Simple. He knew that. He was a cop in Haven, there was nobody who took the troubles more seriously than he did. There had been three people killed because of their nightmares so far, and there probably would be more before they could find the individual responsible.

But he wasn’t having a nightmare. He was having a _dream._ He told himself that the distinction was enough, that he could fall asleep and not face any consequences. So what if his dream came true? If the worst case scenario was him getting to be touched by Duke for real, then there really was no downside.

So, after a day of dead ends and no results whatsoever, he found himself standing at the end of his bed, fighting a war within himself. A war of priorities. A war of reason. And a war, ultimately, of emotion. He _wanted_ this. He hadn’t been able to feel for so long, and now that he could…

It hurt.

It _hurt,_ how much he needed this. How much he needed to feel Duke’s breath against his skin, how much he needed to feel a hard surface beneath his palms, how much he needed to feel hips grinding against his in a desperate attempt to reach a _mutual resolution_ -

Really, it was a foregone conclusion.

He took off everything but his boxer shorts, gripping his shirt hard enough between his fists that he could see the fabric straining, fibres nearly ripping under the force of his frustration. But he couldn’t _feel it._ He couldn’t feel his bones rubbing and creaking, couldn’t feel his muscles protesting, couldn’t feel the ache building at the base of his wrists. He was floating. Unbound and untouchable.

He dropped his shirt on the ground. Got into bed.

Accepted his fate.

 

***

 

He found himself slipping away into the dizziness of unconsciousness almost immediately, swathed in a heavy darkness. It weighed him down like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

Before he slipped away, lying heavily on his bed, he felt a fleeting pulse of panic. Was he making a mistake? Was he risking his life by giving in? Would it all go wrong somehow?

Then he was asleep.

And there was no turning back.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

At first there was black. Moving around him like an inconceivable mass, a concept more than a physical thing. Then it lightened, changing form and shape, becoming a place. Dawn just before the brightness of sun. Twilight before the coming of night. A place in-between realities, a place just for him. A pinch of the real world, taken at ease, taken at leisure. There would be nothing here that he did not want.

He found himself standing, like before, only this time he wasn't naked. The greens and browns of the schoolroom, darker and heavier in ambience, had brightened into warm flourishes of yellow and white. Light fell across everything, sleek over the walls and the floors, silver mechanisms jutting out of the wall, wooden seats stationed throughout the room.

 _Showerheads,_ he thought, _those are showerheads._

Nathan realised he was in the school’s gym changing room. He took a step forward, concrete hard beneath his bare feet, but oddly lacking in temperature. He was not cold, nor was he too warm. He just… was.

He could feel himself growing smaller, growing thinner. The definition and strength of his adult self left him like wax melting off a candle, painless and natural. He found himself in a gym polo shirt, the fabric hanging off him, the sleeves too big. He reached his arms around himself, feeling the willowy lines of his frame, and realised what had happened. Knowing there was a mirror nearby, he turned, seeking out his reflection.

A boy looked back at him. He was soft and demure, waves of brown hair spilling out over innocent eyes, desperately in need of a haircut.

Nathan was young again.

He lifted his hands, cupped his own face, felt the hairlessness of his supple jaw and the slender angles of his cheekbones. He didn’t know how old he was, didn’t know why he’d become younger. Unless…

He saw the idea spark in his blue eyes, watched the awareness take hold of his mirror self, the room around him seeming to pulse and glow as he realised. There was only _one_ reason he would want this. Only _one_ fantasy that he’d kept hidden in the depths of his mind.

The door to the gym bathroom opened.

Nathan let go of his own face, held his arms by his side, small hands clenched tightly into fists. He shifted on his feet, watched the mirror, saw the way he rolled his lip between his teeth and bit down, saw the way his cheeks flushed hot with absolute certainty as to what would come next.

Oh, yes.

He _knew_ what would come next.

It was not long before footsteps began to approach. The same steady, sharp footsteps that he’d heard during the last dream, stalking towards him with infinite patience. Nathan’s pulse quickened, jumping below his skin, and he hunched over beneath his polo shirt, shoulders drawing inwards. Duke appeared behind him, and Nathan was not shocked to see that Duke had not become younger. He was as handsome as ever, with strands of silver threaded throughout his long dark hair, a tie impeccably resting below his collar, hanging just above his belt. And he was smiling. That cold, distant smile. The one that made Nathan _itch_ to be disciplined.

“Well,” Duke said, his tone soft, “what do we have here?”

Nathan flinched. He hadn’t spoken yet, hadn’t realised that voices could take form in this strange, otherworldly place. Duke stepped closer and the room seemed to bend with his movements, undulating with his every advance. He was _powerful_ here. Just how Nathan wanted it.

“I…” Nathan began.

Duke paused behind him, reached both hands up. He set his palms on Nathan’s shoulders, and Nathan groaned, shaking. He could _feel._ And not only that– Duke’s hands were even boarder like this, even stronger against young, creamy-white skin. Nathan closed his eyes, shudders punching through his body.

“Is this your fantasy, or mine?” Duke asked.

Nathan shook his head, felt hair tickle his brow. For a moment, he wondered if Duke was real, if Duke was actually sharing this dream with him- but no, that couldn’t be it. That wasn’t part of the dream trouble. This was just his mind playing tricks on him, taunting him with the thing he wanted most.

Duke hushed him, brushed some hair out of Nathan's face. Nathan managed to keep down the moan that was building in his throat, but couldn’t help turning his face into the soft gesture. He was so starved of touch, so desperate for it.

“Duke-”

“That’s not how you address me, kid.” Duke told him, voice meticulously calm and dangerously quiet. “Remember?”

Nathan swallowed, eyes still pressed shut. Duke’s hand moved upward, the edge of his palm coming to rest just above Nathan’s collarbone, fingers wrapping gently around his neck. Pressing just enough to be a threat, just enough to make Nathan lightheaded by the weight of a thumb over his jugular.

Nathan shivered.

“Yes,” he whispered, “headmaster.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Duke leaned down, inclined his face into Nathan’s cheek. Nathan’s breath hitched, the dry press of Duke’s lips making him flush in a way he never had before. But he didn’t move. He didn’t _dare._

“Good boy,” Duke murmured, words vibrating against Nathan’s skin. His body, so much larger and stronger, pressed up against Nathan’s back, crowding him– and suddenly the mirror was gone, suddenly Nathan was pressed up against a wall, hands braced flat against tiles. He tried to escape purely for the novelty of it, for the fun of the game. Just to feel Duke hold him still, a hand still around his neck, a warning spelled out clearly by the delicious tightening of his grip.

“You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?”

Nathan shook his head again, felt tears rising in his eyes, clumping his lashes together. Duke pressed a kiss to the curve of his cheek, fingers loosening.

“My beautiful boy,” he sighed, “my beautiful Nathan. Stay right where you are, okay? Just like this.”

Nathan did, even as he trembled. He rested his forehead against the wall, felt Duke’s fingers wandering, teasing at the edge of his polo shirt, and at the waistband below. Then, without any preamble or hesitation, Duke pulled down his shorts, harsh fabric yanked down over bare skin. Nathan whimpered in shock, hips jerking in surprise as he was exposed to the air. He realised he wasn’t wearing underwear.

“Headmaster, please-”

“Shh, shh.”

Nathan squirmed where he stood, struggled only as much as he desired, only as much as his fantasy permitted. He didn’t want to get away. He didn’t _want_ to escape. This was his fantasy. This was _his_ dream, and he would have all the fun he wanted.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, Nathan.” Duke told him, the words a raw secret, ripped from somewhere primal within him. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“Please,” Nathan sobbed, “ _please-”_

Duke’s hand closed around Nathan’s cock, fingers too large and too calloused. Nathan’s mouth opened wide, a broken sound shuddering from inside him. But the sound was quickly muffled, his attempt at speaking turned voiceless when Duke reached up to press a hand against his mouth.

“Quiet. Don’t want somebody to hear, do you?”

Nathan swallowed thickly, tears sliding down his cheeks, moisture caught in the valley that Duke’s fingers made against his skin. He wasn’t crying in earnest, but instead in ecstasy, thrilled to be treated this way. Thrilled to be _imposed upon._ He had been so isolated for so long, resigned to numbness even when Duke was so close to him, and all he’d ever wanted was to be held down and taught a lesson. All he’d ever wanted was to be _touched._ He’d never read much into his kinks, never thought too deeply about why he entertained the highly specific fantasies that he did– he knew that other men did too, and women as well.

Everyone had their secrets.

“Stay still.”

Nathan exhaled hard, a guttural moan trapped behind Duke’s palm, begging words turned into a senseless cry. Duke moved his hand slowly, patiently, doing to Nathan what had never been done to him before. Not like this. Never by a _man._ And certainly never by Duke.

“That’s it,” Duke praised him softly, “is that why you want this? Because it feels good? Because you want me to be in control?”

Nathan didn’t know why he wanted this. And he didn’t know why Duke kept asking all these _questions,_ why his mind continued to mock him with the idea that Duke was actually here with him.

“You have no idea how much I want this to be real. How much I want _you_ to be real, even though…” Duke whispered, hand moving faster now, and then stopping altogether as an idea occurred to him. “I suppose I’ll take what I can get.”

His fingers began to move, wandering around the curve of Nathan’s bare hip and then lower still, seeking the warmth between Nathan’s legs. Nathan flinched, leaning towards the wall now in an attempt to escape as Duke teased at silken skin. A place nobody else had ever touched. The fantasy was moving faster than he’d expected. But that was how dreams generally went, right?

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you,” Duke told him again, “just like this, okay? Just like this…”

He arched his hand, drove a single finger inward, deep and fast and wholly unexpected. Nathan stiffened, a moment of stunned silence before he yelled, throat tightening as his cry was blanketed by Duke’s hand. Duke nuzzled at his cheek, pressing open-mouthed, wet kisses everywhere he could reach, darkening a patch of skin into a blooming pink bruise. Nathan’s slender body rolled, mindless and jutting, following the rhythm that Duke’s touch was dictating. It didn’t hurt, not like it would in the real world– but it stung enough to be good, enough to be _just what he needed._

“Do you want it? Do you want it like this?” Duke asked, breaths harsh and edged with desperation. Abruptly, he lifted his hand up off Nathan’s mouth, freeing his lips. Nathan gasped senselessly, panting for air as he shuddered, chin falling down onto his shoulder, temple against the wall. Before he could form enough coherency to speak, Duke was reaching up again. He eased his tie between Nathan’s lips, looped it around and knotted it just below the base of Nathan’s skull. Gagging him.

Duke kissed the corner of his mouth like he was apologising, but Nathan didn’t want him to. Nathan didn’t want apologies, not now. Not here.

“I’ll make it good for you,” Duke promised, “oh, Nathan. _God_ …”

Nathan whined, arching backwards, curving the small of his back when Duke’s hand pressed into his hips, demanding that he bow his body just so. There was a thick solid line pressing up against Nathan’s ass, promising all kinds of filthy things.

“I figure,” Duke breathed, “that you can take it.”

The jangle of a belt immediately followed his words. Nathan struggled, unsurprised when his arms were seized, thin wrists easily held by one of Duke’s much larger hands. Nathan moaned, loving it. He was on display, beautiful in his helplessness, captivating the entirety of Duke’s concentration. He was going to be fucked, going to be touched and fondled, and there was little more to be done than blush about it.

Just like he’d always wanted.

Duke unzipped himself, and the silence with which he went about his business only served to amplify the intimacy between them, the trancelike surreality about what they were doing. Nathan shivered against the wall, closed his eyes.

Submitting.

Duke eased into him slowly, and it burned. It hurt, tight and deep and _invasive_ in a way that Nathan had been craving for so long, a way that made him sag against the wall. Duke held him up, a thick arm braced around his chest, an embrace strong enough to support Nathan when he went limp.

Nathan gasped, tears pearling at the corners of his eyes, dripping down onto the floor, disappearing into the fog of this dreamscape. This was happening fast, faster than it would in real life, and Nathan knew they were already running out of time. He tried to speak, tried to say, _Duke,_ but all that made it past the gag was a helpless, voiceless plea. Duke rocked his hips forward, kissing Nathan’s neck with a tenderness that sat in stark contrast to the harshness of his movements.

“Spread your legs wider,” Duke ordered him gently, authority hardening his voice like he _knew_ Nathan needed to be distracted, needed to be reminded why they were here.

They were here to _fuck._

So Nathan inched his feet further apart, precarious where he stood on his toes, pulled off the ground by Duke’s grip. When Duke thrust forward, driving deep with a mercilessness that Nathan could never have even imagined, Nathan’s slender hips hit the wall, his smaller body slamming against the tiles. He moaned, a high-pitched wail, not enough to deter his headmaster. Duke continued to fuck him, faster now. Nathan was held in place by a strong arm, trapped right where he wanted to be.

“Nathan,” Duke hissed, “Nathan, Nathan, Nathan-”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

“…Nathan, Nathan! Nathan! _Nathan_ , wake up!”

Nathan opened his eyes.

He was choking. The ceiling before him was blurred, his skin was on fire, and his throat was as dry as desert sand. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but couldn’t form words. Audrey’s face, nothing more than a vague smudge of skin-coloured space, leaned over him.

“You were overheating, Nathan– Damnit, _why_ did you go to sleep? I nearly lost you!”

Audrey’s voice continued on in a shrill, furiously concerned tone. Nathan tried to force breaths down his throat, but it was difficult. The heat had been building in his dream, pushing him towards an orgasmic crescendo, and now he saw it for what it was; a trap. He was burning up, body temperature boiling past the point of safety, and had Audrey not found a way to wake him then he definitely would have died. He assumed she had found the person whose trouble was making peoples’ dreams come true.

But that wasn’t what he was focussed on.

He could feel the heat ebbing from his body, sensation leaving him horrifyingly fast, numbness starting to creep inwards from the tips of his fingers. He tried to concentrate, tried to commit the sensation of physical awareness to memory; tried to be aware of the taut muscles straining his forearms and biceps, the texture of sheets beneath the pads of his fingertips, the sweat-soaked chill of the pillow beneath his head, the pulsing warmth that hummed through his abdomen. But it was fading, too fast for him to resist– along with the dream, and along with the bliss of Duke’s hands touching his body.

“ _No_ ,”

The word slipped out before he could stop it, and the last physical sensation he could properly perceive was the sting of tears blooming in his eyes. The irony of it was almost funny.

“Nathan? Nathan, look at me. What’s wrong? What did you see?”

Nathan lurched up off the bed, clumsily pushing Audrey away. Everything had returned to the way it was. He didn’t feel his hand connect with Audrey’s shoulder, didn’t feel the mattress beneath him dip or move with his weight, and certainly did not feel the slow roll of tears sliding down his face. All that he could sense was a trembling, ghastly emotion, one that he was sure would devastate any normal person. But it was so easy to be emotionless, like this. His body might have been crying, but he didn’t feel it. He was alone with his bitterness and his loneliness, unable to feel relief, unable to alleviate emotional distress.

There was no escape.

“Nathan.” Audrey’s voice was soft, and a shifting sound behind him suggested she was comfortingly resting her hand on his back. It didn’t matter, because he _couldn’t feel her._ So he hid his face in his palms as an excuse not to look at her, not to see her worried eyes or the pity in her expression.

“Nathan, whatever you saw in your dream, it wasn’t-“

“I know it wasn’t real, Audrey, I _know.”_ He hissed the words at her, because he just wanted her to leave him alone with the knowledge that he could never, ever have Duke the way he so desperately needed. “Go away. Just go away.”

There was an extensive pause. The silence went on for so long that he eventually looked up, only to find that Audrey had left the room so quietly that he hadn't heard her go, and– being physically numb– had not felt her hand leave his back. This was his world, again. A world of distance, detachment, and isolation; a prison he could never escape.

He sat still, so deeply immersed in his own misery that the entire world faded away into nothingness.

 

 


End file.
